Spoiled as a 19yr old

As a 19 year old, you were given certain responsibilities that you didn't really care for (voting), but were still denied privileges you wanted (gambling, drinking). As a 19 year old, I was desperately trying to hold onto those tumultuous yet invincible teenage years. Denied the privileges that proper grownups enjoy, I had to find other ways to get a thrill or two. Fortunately, I really liked cars (and still do). And driving them was a pleasure, especially very quickly around a twisty course marked with dont-matter-if-you-hit-them cones.

It happened that when I was 19, the dot-com boom made it possible for Edmunds.com to hold an driving event where you could test drive all sorts of cars and not be chastised for driving too quickly or aggressively. I remember I went with my brother, who was 21 at the time. Both of us kids jumped in and out of cars driving them around. Yes it was incredible fun. Just being able to drive the sheer variety of cars (from sporty BMWs to Chrysler minivans) was fun. But my brother and I had no intention of buying a car. We really weren't who the event organizers expected (or wanted) to come. We just liked driving and sitting in them. In effect, we were brats who wormed our way into having a free day of legal joyriding. And we loved it.

When I was 20 years old, I went to another driving for Cadillacs. If you were under 21, you weren't allowed to drive but could ride along. I went with bro again who was 22 so he could drive. Again we weren't going to buy a Caddy. We just liked driving. At any rate, the plot thickens because I decided, as a 20 year old who was only a few months away from the hallowed 21 year milestone, that I was old enough to drive a Caddy at this event. So I did. All was going well. I took it easy trying not attract too much attention. It was fun. The cars drove well. But as the laps went by, I became less and less like the 21 year old I was pretending to be and slipped into being that 20 year old who I really was. I had decided that I would really push this next lap. So I did. For the next hairpin corner, I decided to test the limits of the car's traction. I approached the hairpin, braked hard, turned in, and mashed the throttle in mid-turn. I heard every single safety system in the car (traction control, ABS, stability control) whir and hiss in that corner. But I floated through that corner like a pro. The car exited the corner in the right direction and I followed through. The only problem was that the corner where I had rounded this turn in near Tiff Nedell-like execution was the corner right next to where the officials stationed. The plume of tire smoke from my turn made me a spectacle capable of dazzling even the impatient crowd and the officials running the event. I knew I was in trouble, so I drove very very slowly to the finish line hoping that my average speed might make my spectacular turn a wash. No such luck. The man approached me and said I was "done for the day", meaning that I had driven too aggressively and had my driving privileges taken away. When he flipped over my badge (which I had purposely kept facing the wrong direction), he noticed that instead of the usual tag, it was written "Matthew 20", which indicated I was only 20 years old. (I had wished it said 20-almost-21-in-a-couple-of-months", but it would have made no difference. I was supposed to be driving at the event. It was the rule.) When the man flipped over my badge and noticed I was a bratty 20 year old sneaking into driving when I shouldn't have been, all I could do was to be a bratty 20 year old: I donned an impish grin and played it off by copping a "so-what-can-you-do-to-me?" attitude. All he could do was to put a big red X through my name and tell me not to drive. So I didn't. I rode along with my brother for the rest of the day. Thinking back on this experience, I can't believe what an bratty 19-20 year old I was by going to these driving events. I certainly didn't think I was a brat at the time. But 19 and 20 are the invincibility years, after all.

What triggered this sudden desire to tell of my bratty 19th/20th years of existence? Well, I found out that one my former high school kids went to a similar driving event. He and his buddies are 19 years old. They took vids of them tearing up and down the tarmac in fancy Mazda sport cars at a driving event. When I saw these vids on xanga/youtube, I couldn't help but think what brats they are. They have no business attending events like that. They're not gonna buy those cars! They shouldn't practice dangerous maneuvers only to repeat them in the real streets using lamp posts and concrete barriers as obstacles instead of cones. What brats! But then I realized I was exactly the same when I was a 19 year old. It's disconcerting to experience these cognitively dissonant feelings. I used to think I was a model 19 year old. Now I have to re-evaluate those years in my life. I hope it doesn't lead to self-loathing my past self. (too many reflexive pronouns? probably. but anyway...)

By the way, voting is way cooler than drinking or gambling. But that's not what I thought when I was 19 unfortunately. For you invincible 19 year olds out there, voting really is way cooler. For reals.

Because you don't care

Last night I had a dream. It was almost a prophetic dream or a dream that taught me a lesson. The moral of the dream struck me so strongly that I instantly woke up. I laid there contemplating it. Then I got on my knees and prayed for forgiveness. Here's an account that's nearly 20 hours old. I should have written about it sooner but I was busy.

I had quit grad school and was planning on going to somewhere abroad. I don't remember what it was about but it was a great opportunity. However it wouldn't start until a few months from now. In the mean time, I had nothing to do. So I decided to inquire about being hired at Oracle (where I worked before starting grad school) just to make some cash before I ventured off to my new job/calling abroad. I talked to my old manager at Oracle and told him quite frankly that I wanted to work just for a few months and didn't care what I work I was assigned to do. I just wanted the salary. "They" (the powers that be at Oracle) decided to give me a job. However, they said it was with another group working on a different project. I gladly accepted it and didn't care what sort of work it was. I got the impression that the salary was pretty similar to what I earned before, so I was happy.

I arrived at the hallowed towers of Oracle and hung around the reception desk area (which was strangely cast in all white light) waiting for people to come swipe me in. As I was waiting, two of my former co-workers at Oracle came down and saw me. He was wearing sunglasses for some strange reason. (sorry for unnecessary details, but it helps with recounting the dream experience). They saw me and looked at me funny. Almost as if they were surprised that I was back. They asked me, "You know what you're going to be doing, right?" From the tone of their question, they were surprised I agreed to do the work. They didn't seem particularly thrilled to see me either. They thought I was making a big mistake coming back to Oracle.

Fast forward...I end up in a big room with a lot of people. There was a mix of people: Former co-workers from Oracle. And strangely, people from my church back home in SF. They all seemed surprised that I decided to rejoin Oracle. They all seemed to look down on me and thought I had degraded myself to work just for the money. I thought to myself, "It's my life and I can do whatever I want." I spoke with Junichi and he asked me, "You *do* know why he hired you, right?" I told him that I didn't know. Junichi said, "It's because you said you didn't care about your work." At that moment, it all made sense. Thinking about the job description, I just then realized that I would be an assistant to an engineer, a sanitation engineer. That is, a janitor. (no offense to janitors!) At that moment, I understood that *he* (the person who hired me) decided that since I didn't have a passion for my work, I should be assigned duties that would embarrass me, something that would teach me a lesson. I was punished for my lack of passion in my work. He hired me to teach me a lesson. He hired me to shame me. And I so deserved the shame. Who am I to waste my time making money where there is something much greater to seek after--much nobler pursuits? I was ashamed of myself. In from of all my co-workers, my friends, I compromised myself for the sake of money. I shrank to the ground and looked up to see Rev. Yee walk in. He was the one who hired me. He was the one who decided to make me a janitor because I said I didn't care about my work. No passion. Just seeking after money.

I woke up and instantly sat up in bed. How dare I waste my time? How dare I work only for the sake of making money? I prayed to God asking Him to give me the strength and determination to not waste my time. I confessed to him how I pursued money and how I made it my passion instead of my work. Work without loving Christ is repulsive in God's sight. Work without passion and zeal is utterly disgusting in God's sight.

Popsicle Thoughts

I was taking an evening stroll and noticed a lady ahead of me pushing a baby stroller. As she crossed the street, she stopped. She bent down to the bag of groceries under the stroller and opened up a box and pulled out a popsicle. Sticking it in her mouth to free up her hands, she closed the box and stuffed everything underneath the stroller. She walked on, pushing the stroller with one hand and eating the popsicle with the other. A block later, she stopped again. She pulled out another popsicle and chomped on that too as she walked quickly home.

Why couldn't she have waited until getting home to enjoy the popsicle? Was she in that desperate need for one? And why did she have two of them? Usually one popsicle is good enough. Was it that tasty? Letting my imagination go, I concluded that this mom, while a footloose, fancy-free, stroller-pushing hedonist out of the house, is a repressive, no-sweets disciplinarian. She had to scarf those popsicles before her domestic alter-ego set in. She really booked it back home, as if she were late. I think that was her domestic alter-ego slowly taking over as she got closer to home. Nonetheless, her hedonist half was taking full advantage of the chance to indulge in another frozen treat.

Figure it out

I was standing in line at the tent outside IKEA where they sell many of their sale items. I held my wallet in one hand and a $.25 green plastic bowl clasped between my elbow and my torso. I used my left hand to fish out from my wallet the two pennies I needed for the tax in addition to the quarter I had in my hand.

At that moment, I wondered to myself whether it was worth it to wait in line just to buy this plastic bowl? Just then the woman behind me in line picked up a tea light candle holder in one hand from the display and said to her 18 year-old daughter, "Oh these are great! These would be a great shower present! Don't you think?" Her daughter replied, "Yeah but they look like ashtrays." The mother, obviously slighted by her daughter's disapproval, said, "No they don't. You don't even know what an ashtray looks like." The daughter, rolling her eyes, replied in a patronized tone, "I *know* what an ashtray looks like." "I don't think you do," the mother replied and paused to think of how she could support her claim that her daughter didn't know what an ashtray looked like. "An ashtray has butt holders on the sides...little things to put your cigarette butt on." Her daughter, knowing there was little she could do to convince her mother otherwise, once again said, "I still think it look like an ashtray." That was the end of that conversation. And every word of it was excruciatingly painful to listen to. I'm not sure exactly why. Maybe because the people conversing spoke with such animosity. Maybe the conflict between mom and daughter was somewhat unpleasant to vicariously experience. Or maybe it was because I just can't get excited about a candle holder. At any rate, I had wished I wasn't standing in line to buy that green plastic bowl. I wouldn't have had to listen to that awful conversation.

When I got to the front of the line, I presented my item to the cashier. With a smirk of amusement, she scanned it. Your total is twenty-seven cents. I had a quarter, a penny and a dime. I handed her a dime and quarter. She said she could spare a penny, saying "We'll figure it out somehow." I gave her a quarter and the only penny I had. As she bagged my bowl and handed me the receipt, she remarked, "Congratulations, you qualified for the smallest purchase you can make." Slightly embarrassed, I laughed and made a quick exit out of the tent, leaving the slighted mother with her embittered daughter in the capable hands of the cashier to "figure it out".

Apprentices

Yo Donald Trump! The plural of "apprentice" is "apprentices" -- NOT "apprenti". Shame on Randall for making up such a word. Shame on you, Trump, for perpetuating such an error simply because it's catchy. While many Latin words that end in /us/ can be pluralized by replacing the /us/ with /i/ (like "fungus-fungi", "locus-loci" or "papyrus-papyri"), the same rule cannot be applied to the word "apprentice" . While it does have Latin roots, the word "apprentice" is not a true Latin word. It actually comes from French ("apprenti-apprentis"). And notice even in French, they use an 's' to pluralize.

healthy food

Check out this site (www.whfoods.com ) out to find out what are the world's healthiest foods. As I get to decide what I eat/cook these days, I am trying to eat things from this site rather than the chips, cookies, and sweets that have very little nutrient value.

Nutrient content of food is the most important. Some foods are packed with nutrients and are relatively low in calories/fat (like kale). Other foods may be packed with nutrients but are somewhat high in calories/fat (like almonds). In the case of almonds, the fat they contain is monounsaturated fat, the kind of fat that lowers bad cholesterol. Also it's a good source of Vitamin E and protein. So this means that the benefits outweigh the negatives. A small portion (.25 cup) of almonds everyday is a good thing.

name me

There are instances in life when one gets the chance to give something a name. Parents give their children names like Eric or Matthew. Owners give their pets names like Hazel and Gray. Shipbuilders give their boats names like Enterprise and Argo. In all these cases, the opportunity to name something is privilege. It is a privilege conferred on the individual in response to some grand magnanimous gesture. One can name one's children because you "made" them. One can name a pet because you will be "sacrificing" your resources to take care of it. One can name a boat because you "own" it.

The name given can be indicative of a particular aspect of the object or it can be random. Often it is chosen for its lyrical or melodic qualities, that is because it just "sounds good". Sometimes it is chosen to imbue the object (or person) with the attributes of the namesake. My aunt was named Doris since my grandfather liked the famous actress and chanteuse named Doris Day.

I am encountering the opportunity to name things more and more often these days. And it's usually because one owns the object to be named. A few cases come to mind:

My computer asked for a name (for the network). I named it "NCC1701A", the registry number of the USS Enterprise, a starship in Star Trek.

My iPod (I know...I know...but it was a gift) asked to be named. I named it "Galileo" (a homage to the name of the shuttlecraft on the USS Enterprise NCC1701A). Essentially it's a portable version of the bigger machine, hence the relationship between the Enterprise and the shuttle.

My usb drive asked to be named. I named it "teraquad", after a large (fictional) unit of memory used to describe the amount of memory common in starships of the 24th century in the Star Trek universe.

My wireless network asked to be named. I thought of naming it after the absolute best thing in existence. I considered calling it "diamonds," "platinum," or "chocolate_old_fashioned_donut." But in the end I named it "saving_grace". It pays respect to the type of grace that God extends to us. Grace is "undeserving favor", that is, something that you get even though you really really don't deserve it. In this case, it's a grace that saves us from our sins. It allows us imperfect, flawed people to co-exist with God's perfectness. It's something that only God can give us. We can never overcome our imperfectness on our own power. It has to come through God's saving grace through His son Jesus Christ.

Be on the lookout for opportunities to name things. What do you think is the best thing in existence?

Love Life?

The tub of heart candies from valentines day still sits in the office today nearly a month after Valentines Day or "Singles Awareness Day" as some call it. On valentines day, everyone came to their desks to find a candy heart on their desk. You know, the kind with a short message written on it. The candy I found on my desk was a white heart with "LOVE LIFE" written in pink upper case letters. This somewhat perplexed me. Was a description? Or was it a command? It kinda makes a difference. But for me, I don't think it applies either way. The former meaning clearly isn't descriptive of me. If it meant the latter meaning, then I'd rather change it to "LOVE GOD". For God is the true source of Life. I'd prefer to love the giver of the gift than the gift itself. And it's a gift that was promised to us that we may have it to the full according to John 10:10 .

internet meme

An internet meme is something (usually obscure) on the internet that spreads quickly in its use. It could be a saying, joke, video or anything that can be passed along. It's incredible how these things come to be. Perhaps on some forum or chatroom, someone makes something up and it catches on like wildfire.

One particularly funny internet meme takes the form of an image macro. An image macro is usually a saying or phrase that is written on an image for added emphasis or humor. While reading the saab92x.com forum, as a I usually do, there was a post about what tires to buy. In the thread's title, the person used the british spelling variant of the word and spelled it "tyres". So one American stickler pointed out that tires should be spelled with an "i". And one European person responded with this image macro:

I found this to be hilarious. Not only is it a play on the language but also the image the owl and the image macro reinforced the European guy's sarcastically annoyed attitude towards someone telling him his spelling was wrong. It's amazing how an image and some text can convey so much meaning. It's almost more salient than face-to-face communication, an interesting Computer-Mediated-Communication issue.

I looked into this phenomenon of "O RLY". And it's really a big deal. (Sorry if I'm late to notice this peculiarity.) People have made all these different image macros with owls and plays off of the original "O RLY" phrase. Here check this site out:

This "O RLY owl" phenomenon has grown and grown and people are putting the owl in all sorts of pictures out of contexts. I LOL'd after I saw this one:

invitation to fish frys and cookouts

Sometimes a judgement is made not based on the current state of a situation but rather completely based on the past. Take for example the sentiments of this songwriter as demonstrated by his lyrics:

She never got a chance to hear my side of the story we was divided
She had fish frys and cookouts
On my child's birthday I ain't invited
Despite it, I show her the utmost respect when I fall through
All you, do is defend that lady when I call you, yeah

In spite of the apparent good intentions now, the person referred to as "she" and "that lady" or elsewhere in the song as "Ms. Jackson", has yet to forgive the writer for having a baby with her daughter (and making her daughter cry). It's not surprising that this forgiveness is hard to give. This is human forgiveness. Our hard hearts and need to remain protective of ourselves makes us less willing to forgive. Nursing a grudge or feeling of injustice somehow makes us feel better. Feeling angry at what we perceive as bad seems to be justified. Forgiveness is something we feel that must be earned. It's something we think we "deserve" if we are honest enough.

There are some things that are forgiveable: stepping on someone's toe, eating the last canape on the tray or even throwing a fist at someone in a momentary fit of rage. There are some things that people normally just can't forgive: a stab in the back, disregarding your warnings or a rejection. And these unforgivable things are exactly what we did to God. We rejected Him. We decided to live our lives without Him. We chose to follow our own desires and ambitions apart from God. These actions and attitudes are unforgiveable. We deserve the consequences: separation from God forever. Such an unsavory thought.

There are some that think we can earn this forgiveness by doing good works to "compensate". How many good deeds will you need to do to compensate for rejecting God? Some think we God owes it to us to forgive us, after all He says he loves us. How can we humans demand anything from God? He owes us nothing, for we reject Him, remember?

But take heart! We don't deserve forgiveness, but He gave it to us anyway through His son Jesus. He sacrificed His son Jesus by allowing Him to be cruxified on the cross, to bear that pain, disgrace, torture and humiliation. It is by this sacrifice that God demonstrates His incomprehensibly magnitude of his love for us.

"For God so loved that world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life." -John 3:16

We can't earn it. But God gave his forgiveness to us. All we need to do is believe in the forgiving act of His son Jesus Christ. There are a lot of good reasons to believe in Jesus Christ. First, read the gospel of John, so you understand where I'm coming from.

c'mon!

I overheard while walking by the AE Outfitters:

DAD (in whining tone): "come awwwn!"
MOM (addressing DAUGHTER lingering in the store): "Dad says to come on!"
DAUGHTER (in strained tone): alriiiight!

What's amusing? The infinitive version of the expression "come on", as used by the MOM.

flat diet coke

The taste of flat diet coke reminds me of my travels in europe. what does it remind you of?

XC Banquet

I recently visited thelowell just to see what's going on at my old high school. On the page was a link to a story about the Cross Country team going to "state" (the state competition in Fresno, CA). It reminded me of one particularly painful memory of initiation.

Now it's not what you're probably thinking. All "newbies" on the team are supposed to put on a skit for the team at the end of the season during post-season potluck banquet party. It's part of the tradition. My official first year in XC was my junior year so my fellow newbies were two years younger than I was. Somehow I felt responsible for putting together this skit since I was older than the others. But I hated the thought performing in front my teammates. I absolutely hated it.

Earlier in the day I was deciding whether to go the banquet at all. I knew it would be fun...except for the skit thing which I would hate. But somehow I felt that I *had* to do the skit as if I had no choice. I though that if I didn't do it, then I wouldn't be part of the team. That's what I believed. I decided to go to the potluck and hope that someone else would think of something fun for the skit. But when I arrived, none of the other newbies were there. I remember I was so concerned about it that I had to leave for a little bit. I stepped outside into dark parking lot below and looked up at the shimmering stars in the sky. I felt like crying. Maybe I actually cried. I prayed to God in desperation. I didn't want to do the skit but I wanted to fit in with the rest of the team. I looked up at the glowing window to the cafeteria where all the others were. I didn't want to go back. I wanted to go home. After a few minutes standing in the darkness, I shoved aside my feelings and went back inside resolved to do the skit. I felt I had no other choice.

There were two or three other newbies around. They didn't care about performing either, but they didn't seem all too worried about it. I still was. I got them together to plan for the skit. Before we had time to think of anything good, it was time. The team all gathered on the bleachers in the gym to watch me and my fellow newbies perform. The skit was terrible. No one had any idea what was going on. I somehow unintentionally insulted a few team members. It was clear to everyone that it was my dumb idea and that I couldn't carry it out. I was embarrassed to the point that I was crushed. I felt odd the next few days as I saw my fellow XC teammates. No one mentioned anything to me. It was if nothing had happened. But my embarrassment remained in my head. My face still contorts just thinking about how dissapointed I felt that night.

What I realized today, nearly 10 years later, was that this situation was purely a result of peer pressure. I didn't have to do a skit. I wouldn't have been kicked off the team. It was the pressure to conform--to meet the expectations of the more senior members of the team. It was all in my head. Why didn't I see it this way on that fateful night? High school is intense.

store

Overheard at the store...

Wife: Do you want "fruity" or "cocoa"?
Husband: Get one of each.

******
(for those of you who don't get it, captain subtext says: "think: pebbles")

oblivion

Reading up on memory loss and decline is all part of my current research project. I've read all about how memory is miraculously resilient in certain respects yet remarkably fragile in others.

Some say that people's memories start to fail them beginning when they hit their 40's. But this BBC article says that it starts to fade when people reach their 20's. One possible reason is because most people stop going to school in their 20's and switch out of active memorizing/learning mode. Removing the rehearsal routines in rigorous reverie required in reading and research, the brain's memory mechanisms start to take a break and memories start to fade, even newly formed ones. It's also known that being well-educated (read: spent more time of your life in school) is correlated with a less likelihood of dementia when you get old (Staff, Murray, Deary & Whalley, 2004).

It's somewhat comforting to know that my decision to go back to school will have perhaps some statistical significance and may pay off when I get older. If spending another six years in school will save my memories from (literally) oblivion, then more power to me and my fellow students.

dignified duds

As I was doing some updates to the current reading section of this page, I followed some links to read up on what one of my favorite profs from Berkeley is up to. As an vocal member of the African American community and often considered an iconoclast, he wrote this interesting article commenting on the recent enforcement of a new dress code for NBA players. The NBA commissioner decided that players should wear a sport coat when representing the company in public appearances. I have no authority to say anything about the African American culture, but I think McWhorter has an interesting point of view (ie: "what's wrong with spiffing up and ditching the thug look for something less hostile?"). I wonder what the African American community thinks about his views. Some say that his views are generally dismissed by the community as a whole.

translat'n

"hit me up" = "contact me"

In context: "Hit me up on ma cell or on ma facebook if u down."
x-lated: "Contact me on my cell phone or on my social networking web presence if you are interested."

turning death into a fighting chance to live

A scene from the movie Star Trek III: After the Enterprise is crippled after an attack from the Klingons, Kirk arms the auto-destruct sequence to destroy the Klingon boarding party...and his ship. After beaming down to the planetoid below, Kirk looks up to the sky to see his precious vessel explode and incinerate as it falls through the atmosphere leaving a trail of thick smoke.

Kirk says: "My God, Bones, what have I done?"
Bones (Dr. McCoy) says: "What you had to do. What you always do: turn death into a fighting chance to live."

The death of Kirk's ship saved Kirk himself from death. Without the destruction of his ship, Kirk would have been destroyed. He had no other way out, even though the sacrifice of his ship was the biggest sacrifice he's ever made. Kirk's ship, the Enterprise, gave Kirk life.

In John 11:25, Jesus Christ said, "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die." What is Jesus saying here? He is saying that if we believe in him (that he is a Son of God and that he IS God) then we will receive an eternal life, a life worth living that lasts beyond our lives here on earth. God's act of sending his Son, Jesus, as a sacrifice for our mistakes gives us an opportunity to have life and to have it to the full. Like how Kirk's most precious sacrifice was his ship, God's most precious sacrifice is his own Son, Jesus Christ. God turned our death in a chance for us to live. Without it, we would surely die (see Romans 6:23). Unlike Kirk, God didn't *have* to do it. He did it because he loved us just that much, despite our unworthiness. Our response should be one of reflexive love and gratitude.

scribere

Hmmm...lately I've had things I wanted to write about but didn't get the chance to since i've been busy with schoolwork. Just so I don't forget, I'll write down some of the topics swirling in my head:

• shibboleth
• turning death into a fighting chance to live
• uist experience
• living with a 92x
• pgh dim sum
• avec ipod
• rss feed
• freak your freak
• youre not being very supportive

Not quite sure if I'll ever get around to writing about these. Give me a prod if you want me to. I now have webspace from CMU. When I get time I'll probably try to put an academic page together.

California Norms

After flashing my student ID at the door, I walked into the University Center gym at Carnegie Mellon campus. I was suddenly submerged within a sea of black coats. Every student looking for a job was wearing a suit...a whole suit. Shirt, tie, pants and matching jacket. And the women were of course dressed like Hilary Clinton during her campaign for senate. I, on the other hand, was dressed casually wearing jeans, polo shirt and questionably squeaky sneakers. Fortunately, I wasn't looking for employment, though I don't think the recruiters really care what you wear. I dunno, if I were an employer and were looking for someone for a non-customer-facing position, I'd rather they dress casually and be honest. No need to hide behind facades here. Come as you are.

Growing up in California, I got accustomed to some of the idiosyncracies of the culture. I attended many career fairs at Berkeley and never once did I wear a suit. Most people didn't wear suits. Some business majors did, but in a technical career fair, people usually came dressed casually. In fact, one might even be overdressed if one wore a suit to a technical career fair at Berkeley. So what I thought was the norm is probably something exceptional. I'd bet in most schools, people wear suits to technical career fairs. I've never felt more Californian than I do now. I even have a California accent ("caught" pronounced like "cot"). Culture shock indeed.

thunderstorm

Pittsburgh is considered by most living on the west coast to be an east coast city. However, many who live in the east coast consider Pittsburgh to be a midwestern city since it's in the western edge of the state of pennsylvania. The closest big city to Pittsburgh (itself a metropolis) is the rocking midwestern city of Cleveland, Ohio.

I've been hanging around the Pittsburgh area for the past week or so. I've been spending a lot of time in the malls, looking for things to outfit my new digs. I generally find malls to be unsavory since they usually contain a lot of slow-walking people who have nothing better to do but to browse in each store looking for nothing in particular. However, I've found that malls in unfamiliar areas can be pleasant places. There are a couple of reasons I can think of: 1) it's comforting to know that the stores you are used to are available in this unfamiliar place too and 2) it's an excellent place to do some fine people watching (and listening, perhaps the more interesting than watching alone).

Not only do I get to hear the local accent of American English from a person who thinks that I speak strangely, but I get a glimpse into the cultural norms for the area. Granted, as a native and long-time Californian, I do have some pre-conceived notions of other parts of this country. So undoubtedly my perceived reality is often framed by these expectations, though I try not to let them get in the way.

First some high-level ramblings about some things I've found. People are generally nice and will be helpful if you ask. For example, at the Costco, the checker and the person who re-stacked my cart after checkout both asked me how I was doing with a smile and both (again with smiles) wished me a nice day afterwards. I've never encountered such friendliness in the Costco's in the SF Bay Area. In the Bay Area, the "have a nice day"'s and "thank you"'s are generally rushed and said without a beaming smile. Another observation is that drivers are rather rude here. Perhaps it's my unpredictable driving (I'm new to the area, after all), but people are rather eager to honk at me. When I hesitated when the stoplight turned green (to make sure another driver didn't want to take the "pittsburgh left"), I was honked by the guy behind me. He also tailgated me for many blocks. And when I slowed down to turn into a driveway, I was honked again. I hope I don't become so impatient.

Lastly, I'll leave you with a few utterances I heard while a sudden thunderstorm struck the area. I was in a Sears at the time. There were a few people standing by the door waiting for the rain to stop. I'll leave you to decide why I was amused by them.

A small kid (maybe five years old) and his dad were looking at the heavy rain, wind and lightning through the glass of the door to Sears.

Kid: "Dad, I think you need to pull the truck around."
Dad: "No, [chuckles] I think *you* need to pull the truck around."

A man and his wife dash into Sears to escape the rain.

Wife (speaking about the lightning): "I hope we don't get a blackout at home."
Man: "*This* (referring to Sears) is where you want to be in a storm like this."

zolda pranken kopek lum

Clutching my magic watch and chanting the spell "Zolda Pranken Kopek Lum", I managed to conjure myself one of these:

Thanks to the posts on the related Fatwallet thread.

IM becomes pleasant

AIM has become much more pleasant after I turned off the sounds for receiving and sending messages. The flashing of the task bar item is an adequate notification that a message was received. When I send a message, I don't need audio feedback that the message was sent. With the sounds on, it was getting terribly annoying. For those who like musicating themselves while IM-ing, those messages from friends won't interrupting your favorite chorus. And for those who don't need to be musicated to feel good, you can enjoy the ambient sounds of your environment.

More eavesdropping

I found this following conversation to be funny. It was between two guys at the gym working with free weights:

Guy1: Did you hear back from that girl you met last week?
Guy2: You mean the one that collects hair?
Guy1: Yeah.
Guy2 (disappointedly): Naw.

This exchange not only allows your imagination to dream up of imagery that can amuse or frighten, but it also captures the spirit of many young male technical professionals working in silicon valley.

Controlling Privacy

Recently, I have been the target of several evite email invitations. I was initially concerned that someone else was (unintentionally) volunteering my vital information (email, location, etc) for evite to sell to third party advertisers. It was a breakdown in the usual paradigm where I have control of who gets to see my personal information, that is, the control over the level of privacy I desire. However, I was relieved when I actually read their privacy statement. They stated that when someone includes me on their evite, they will not sell my information (email, name, location, IP address, likes, dislikes, etc) to third party advertisers. This is the good news...but read on if you like to hear bad news...

Reading their privacy statement made me aware of a privacy-robbing feature I didn't know about (you might know this already, but I'm just starting to understand how insecure the internet can be). I'm sure that many other websites use this technique, so this is not a direct jab at evite. This technique was the use of embedded "pixel tags" in the emails they send (yes, even to guests like who have been unwillingly been placed on evite lists by someone else). Pixel tags are these insidiously ingenious yet invisible images in your email that allows evite to see when I actually read my email. This is done since the URL of the image points back to a pixel tag file on their server, and when the image is displayed, the file at the URL is "retrieved" and activated. When this file is retrieved, evite can notice what time I opened the message, whether my email client can render HTML, my email address, and other assorted request information including information from my cookies. In their privacy statement, they disclose the fact that this information is used to gather information on me. In my opinion, the date and time I read my emails should be none of their business.

So what's the solution? Well, to avoid the privacy leak caused by pixel tags, you can set your email client to not display images. Mozilla Thunderbird has an option to block the loading of remote images in mail messages. The privacy-minded guys working on Mozilla defaulted this feature to be on--great job! You should make sure you've enabled this feature. Also some web mail clients (I know Hotmail has this for sure...) allow you to suppress internet content when viewing email messages. This should block those nasty pixel tags from notifying the spammer that you're real and that you should be sent morespam. But hotmail defaults to always showing internet sourced content, so you need to go into your account options and enable the suppression feature. This is a win since you can always choose to load images by clicking the option (even on a per email basis) in both Thunderbird and web clients like Hotmail.

then the morning comes

I recall only one remarkable episode in my Rhetoric 1A class during my first year of college. The year was 1999, and Smashmouth made a splash with their hit, "Then the Morning Comes." The class was held in the "early" morning (8am), and the atmosphere was typically somber with most people hesistant to speak using their low, scratchy morning voices. The instructors were two women who shared a passion about exploring gender and ethnicity identity issues in literature, a passion that the rest of the class seemed happy not to share. Most mornings were rather dull.

One morning, the class started out like it always does with people, who pressed their snooze bar one too many times, arriving late. As the one and a half hour class went on, the instructor was talking about the reading. She was describing how one of the characters in the text wasn't quite that bright. She reached for different metaphors to describe the character such as "His elevator didn't quite reach the top floor" and "One brick short of a full load." It was her attempt at a bit of early morning classroom levity. The class nodded, affirming the fact that we understood her point and that her delivery of these humorous metaphors was lacking. As she searched for yet one last metaphor, one of the students, a rather lanky lacrosse player who always wore a visor (even indoors), offered up one from his repertoire to describe this slow-witted character. He said, "He's not the sharpest tool in the shed." His suggestion evoked a titter from the class. His buddy who sat behind him began to laugh, and the lacrosse player turned around to receive a hearty "you-da-man" high-five. The class knew that he was quoting a line from the Smashmouth hit, "Allstar" which was why it was funny. The instructor was obviously oblivious to the origins of the metaphor, which made the situation funnier since she found it particularly appropriate in her description of the character in the text. She thought she was successful in her attempt at humor, but all the while the class was laughing at the jokester student who decided to display his command of Smashmouth lyrics. On that dull morning, that lacrosse player was the "allstar".

ipod snobbery

At the gym, I noticed that this hip, "with-it" kinda guy had this odd-looking round thing attached to his hip. It was wrapped in a leather case. As my eyes followed the thin cables leading from this circle to the guy's ears, I realized it was supplying him with aural stimulations. Ah..it was a CD-player. my main surprise was not seeing him with this somewhat dated music player, but rather my reaction to it. my first thought was, "oh the poor guy doesn't have an iPod." and i pitied him.

why should people without ipods be pitiable? they shouldn't be. but at that instant they were to me. "oh dear," i thought, "he can't afford an ipod." i have become an ipod snob. while i don't own an ipod (or any other digital music player, for that matter), i still think they may be some strong sociological effects resulting from this mass adaption of portable digital music players. ipods in particular.

it was at lunch when we were sitting around talking and eating (surprise surprise) when one of our lunch crew walked in with earbuds in his ears. it was hooked up to a iRiver music player. immediately, the normally inane lunch conversation was derailed and switched topics to how ugly his iRiver player was. it was blacker and a bit chunkier than the oft-sought-after ipod. the iRiver owner defended himself by first saying that it can hold more songs than an ipod and then spouting a litany of additional features that the ipod doesn't have. his defense was resoundingly dismissed and the rest of the lunch crew criticized his choice for aesthetic reasons. oh my...ipod snobbery indeed.

on a somewhat related note, i read an article in the SF Examiner about how thieves are targeting people walking around in the street engrossed in their musicating ipods. thieves identify ipod-carrying people by the ipod's distinctive plastic white headphone cords. the article suggests that people who want to make themselves less of a target, they get some non-white colored headphone cords and use them. but what's i find sooooo interesting about this is that sporting those white headphones is completely part of the ipod experience. look at the commercials for them: you see white silouettes of happy ipod people dancing to their favourite songs against a colorful background. when you put those earphones on and turn on the ipod, you become these happy people. the article suggests that the safe thing to do is to get rid of those headphones and replace them with soul-less black ones. the irony--that once you become one of these happy dancing ipod silouette people, you might get ripped off by theives and become quite sad. related entry: A Musicated Life

Television Consumption Reduction

Aggressively nominalized entry titles aside...I must spend my time more wisely. I spend too much of it watching television. I have a stack of books that I've started but never finished. So one measure to reduce my television consumption is to make it a rule that I won't watch television right before I go to bed. Instead, I'll read a book. If I don't feel like reading a book, then tough! I will either read a book or just go to sleep. How's that? You should make sure I'm keeping my rule.

Punching Out

M: "it's almost time for you to clock out, huh?"
E: "yep, i was just going to say bye."

It was approaching 5:00pm and I was still chatting with a friend over instant messenger. I asked whether it was time to "clock out" for the day since my friend worked by the hour, and I wondered about the last time I had to literally punch a card to indicate that I was done for the day-- and it had to be in 5th grade.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized just how important it was that I punched out all those years. Now before we jump to silly and fanciful conclusions, let me explain what this punching business is about. In fifth grade, the procedure was that we would, upon our arrival at school in the morning, walk over to the punching-in clock, look for our narrow strip of paper with our name on it that was conveniently stacked on a display shelf for easy access, grab it and insert it into this large square box with a clock in front. The slot was on top of the clock so it was like we were inserting our "punch-in card" into the very brains of the ticking goblin. The clock would make a big cha-chunka, and when we pulled the card from the machine, we would see that it had bitten off a bit of the card's edge. And it even had the audacity to stamp the exact time it took its nibble. The same procedure was repeated at the end of the day when we left school--only that it would be called "punching out" instead of "punching in". The clock was suddenly referred to as the punch-OUT clock rather than the punch-IN clock. The machine obviously had a duality that would frighten even the doughtiest lad. Nonetheless, kids would love to punch their cards. It became one of the highlights of the day. It was the school's way of tracking attendance, but I often thought punching in (and out) was a daily ritual of feeding this beast that sat boldly in the rotunda clicking the day away as if it owned every minute. It sat smugly all day as we poor students had to suffer through our teachers and "seatwork".

It was a peculiar yet common utterance at my school to say "Don't forget to punch out your brother before you leave." This meant to punch your brother's card when you were punching out your own to save time. Yes...I did punch out my brother everyday.

The punch out clock proved to be an excellent accomplice in crime. I would stay after school past 3:30 in the "enrichment" program (where I would do my homework) until 6pm because my mom who picked me up had to work until around 5:30. And it was not uncommon for mom to arrive to pick us up a little past 6:00pm because she'd have to rush all the way from downtown to pick us up. As a way to get parents to pick up their kids on time, the school would charge a "late fee" for having to babysit the kids past 6pm. However, there was a way to avoid this late fee and still stay past 6pm. If there was some way you could manage to sneak over to the punch out clock and punch out before 6pm, then there would be no documented evidence that you stayed later 6pm. There were times when my brother and I would work together to punch out early (considered a big no-no). One of us would distract the teacher and the other would sneak off to the other side of the rotunda to punch out. However, it often had to be done just right or else the teacher would notice the loud cha-chunka of the machine. We got away with it as long as the teacher who stayed overtime didn't complain too much. After all, how could he dispute what the never-wrong/always-right punch out clock says?

Sadly as time went on, the school grew to the size where punching in and out became a bottleneck for students arriving and leaving school. It was replaced with a clipboard and sheets of paper on it where you would "sign out" before you left. The punch in clock sadly never saw that it orchestrated its own demise. After the school got too big for the punching in system, the machine was moved to the other side of the wall (inside the school office) to be used for staff punching in and out of their work day. Through the wall, we could hear the punch out clock ticking. And from time to time we would hear the cha-chunka. It had everything...the best seat in the rotunda and the respect and devotion of all students and parents. But now as a pitiable figure, it was relegated to a dark room that held cleaning supplies used by grubby-handed janitors. It wished it hadn't been so arrogant. It had drawn so many kids to the school that it couldn't handle them all. Its own pride and smugness led to its downfall. I feel sorry for the punch out clock.

The Punctuation Police

From an early age, I've been pretty careful with my colons, commas and periods. I enjoyed writing and reading with precision when it came to punctuation. The punctuation sticker in me would occasionally make itself manifest, but recently I picked up Lynne Truss' book Eats, Shoots & Leaves. It's all about how people misuse punctuation in humourous ways. And it brought the inner stickler out of me.

Today I received an announcement email from a vice president of the company I work for. If you had the chance to watch me as I read the email, you would see me cringing in disgust at the punctuation and idiomatic errors in his announcement. To allow you, my illustrious reader, to join with me in my lunacy stickler-ness, I've included below the text of the email sent my the vice president (with names obfuscated to protect the innocent and grammar-illiterate). See if you can spot the errors. After the original text is my corrected version.

First, crystallize in everybody’s mind how what we build impacts how we sell. I constantly hear rumbling on how the lack of marketing support, evangelism, synergy with the CentralData, visibility at Seer Land, etc, are the major impediments to mass market adoption of our products. All of these things are no doubt, very important but ultimately when it comes to development tools, the thing that matters most is the product itself. We see countless examples both in open source (Pillars, Cobra, JManager and NapTime) as well as in commercial software SmartJay) of products capturing significant market share in spite of the fact that they come from unknown players and have little to none marketing and sales. These products embed the seeds of their own success. Getting a better understanding of what are the things which help sell will enable us to build product which are easier to sell, products which ultimately should sell themselves.

Second, one of the feedback that I have gotten from the “Lunch is on Carl” is the difficulty in getting a sense of how successful we are. Of course we will not be able to track every single tools deal, but a few of them, preferably representative as well as high profile, will give everybody a better sense of “when and why do we win” or and more interestingly “when, why and to whom do we loose”. This should not only help build better product but also give everybody a more concrete sense of how successful we are in the market place.

First, crystallize in everybody’s mind how what we build impacts how we sell [<= ummm...this isn't a complete sentence]. I constantly hear rumbling on how the lack of marketing support, evangelism, synergy with the CentralData, visibility at Seer Land, etc, etc., [<= ack! should avoid using 'etc.' in the first place and even worse, he used it in the middle of a sentence!] are the major impediments to mass market mass-market adoption of our products. All of these things are are, no doubt, very important important, but ultimately when it comes to development tools, the thing that matters most is the product itself. We see countless examples both in open source (Pillars, Cobra, JManager and NapTime) as well as in commercial software (SmartJay) of products capturing significant market share in spite of the fact that they come from unknown players and have little to none no marketing and sales. These products embed the seeds of their own success. Getting a better understanding of what are the things which that help sell will enable us to build product products which that are easier to sell, products which that ultimately should sell themselves.

Second, one of the feedback [<= ack! treating feedback as a collective noun when it really isn't] that I have gotten from the “Lunch is on Carl” is the difficulty in getting a sense of how successful we are. Of course we will not be able to track every single tools Tools deal, but tracking a few of them, preferably representative as well as high profile high-profile, will give everybody a better sense of “when and why do we win” or and more interestingly “when, why and to whom do we loose lose” [<= ack! this is a run-on sentence...it's also funny how he tries to get grammatical by avoiding ending the sentence with a preposition but ends up using a homograph ('loose' vs 'lose') instead]. This should not only help build better product products but also give everybody a more concrete sense of how successful we are in the market place marketplace.

Maybe Carl, the vice president who wrote the email, was in a rush and didn't get a chance to proofread his correspondence. Let's give him the benefit of the doubt. Nevertheless, it's fun to correct grammar. Mind you, if you do it too often in public, people stop talking to you, so correct people only when you can't seem to resist the urge. And when you do it, correct their grammar lovingly--not malevolently.

embedded music and embedded tsunamis

Please don't embed an .mp3 or a midi song into your webpage. This forces the person viewing your page to wait for the song to download before interacting with your site. This is annoying. If you'd like to share a song with the world, then put a link to it. Some people like to play music of their own when they surf the internet. Your website's auto-loading song will interfere with their listening pleasures. It's also amateurish to do this since it marks poor web design. I've had to resort to blocking ALL mp3's using Mozilla's super duper adblock extension. Yup, you heard me, I despise these auto-loading mp3's as much as I hate popup ads. So please, don't embed songs in your webpage. If you must play music, then use Flash and always make available the option to "skip the movie".

Please consider visiting this site: www.uslankan.com and getting informed about the tsunami disaster in southeast Asia. Consider donating to this very worthy cause. I wish I could be there to help the victims, but I can't. However, I can support their efforts financially. I hope you will feel the same. Quick painless PayPal transactions make it easy to donate whatever amount you can spare. A few dollars is fine. One of my co-workers helped create this website, so it's all legit. Check it out. Thanks.

computer talk

The computer support guys sit a few cubicles from me at work. Today as I was exiting the restroom, I noticed one of the support guys was pulling a cart with a big computer box on top. I trailed him (for he was going in my direction) and as he approached the other computer support guys, he uttered these words to them, "Disaster averted. System found." I giggled as I walked the rest of the way to my desk.

I hope you find this as amusing as I do.

One of Jakob Nielsen's usability heuristics is to always make available to the user an indication of the state of the system. One simple system I have encountered that implements this heuristic well is a kleenex box. Normally, the tissues that pop up are white. That's all fine and dandy. But a few days ago, I pulled a white colored tissue and noticed that the next tissue was orange! I looked inside the box and lo and behold the rest of the tissues were orange! At first, I thought this was a goof by the manufacturer (i thought: "gee...they must of run out of white tissues that day and had to put in orange ones"), but thinking back, I encountered this anomaly before! I concluded that this is the way the tissue box is letting me know that it is running low on tissues (for there were only a few tissues left in the box). Thus, this indicator impels me to go out and purchase another box of tissues before I run out in the box I already have. How ingenious. I can't think of a simpler, more effective method of alerting the user that the box is nearly empty of tissues. It is an elegant demonstration of Nielsen's "Visibility of System Status" heuristic.

approaching camp

very busy these days with camp coming up. lots to plan for and lots to do. i hope i make it. i need to remember to pray for camp.

the thing that lets me go on the internet

I'm going to be a bit of a technology snob right now. you were warned. i've recently come to realize just how computer illiterate a lot of people are. i would say the majority of the non-engineers i know just don't know how to use a computer. many of them have an email address but rarely check it even though they are sent important messages via email. somehow they think that the rest of the email-using world will actually phone them or meet with them face-to-face to tell them what's going on. not only that, i've noticed some interesting behavior of these "computer-illiterate" users. she was somehow charged with the task to look up some info online. and upon the first search field she found (which was at the top of her yahoo mail page), she typed in her query and clicked the ok button. i was thinking, "why didn't she go to google?" in fact, i think even if that search field was a lycos search or some other loser search engine, she would still have used it and not known any better. when the results of her query came up, at the top was a "sponsored link". she immediately (double) clicked that one. i quickly told her not to click that one but the one underneath it since the sponsored link takes you to a paid travel site...not the site we were looking for. she clicked the back button (at least she knew how to do that) and (double) on the link i pointed at. from this, i can gleam that there are a lot of "simple" users out there. i frankly doubt that i can explain to this person when she is supposed to double click something and when a single click will do. i would start to explain that you only need to double click icons on your desktop..all other times you can use a single click. then i'd have to explain what's a desktop is. but that doesn't cover all the cases, since u double click when you use browse your file system to open folders and files. then i'd have to explain the difference between windows explorer and internet explorer. double-click in windows explorer, but single click in internet explorer. geesh. why don't these people know already. i never explained this to her. and frankly, double clicking on a hyperlink doesn't harm anyone, but it just annoys me when i see people do "computer-illiterate" things like that. i realize not everyone can be as computer-savvy as i am (mind you i dont know *that* much about computers), but i can certainly use a computer efficiently. i think a good benchmark is to ask someone if they know what a "browser" is. a satisfactory answer is "the thing that lets me go on the internet". i'm not hating on computer illiterate people but i'm just letting you know that i find it annoying. end rant.

Loveboaters

Bon voyage, you loveboaters! I know both of you could benefit from some personal growth. And this trip is a perfect opportunity to see the world and more importantly see yourself. Often times, displacing yourself from your routine environs can bring out who you truly are inside. I think I learned a lot about myself when travelling. The interactions with others and the personal reflection time are an essential part of traveling. Although going to Asia, it's difficult to communicate, but nonetheless, I'm sure they'll have fun. Best of luck, you two, and bring back some great memories. I look forward to meeting her...err I mean, hearing about them. =) [that was a joke, btw]

fun in the sun

While some might think my previous entry "To Run" was dumb, I thought it was clever. It's a demonstration of the strangeness that is language. The same words correspond to different thoughts. Likewise, the same thoughts can manifest themselves through different words. I guess it would be a many-to-many relationship, to the delight (or terror) for database people. It's one big crazy mixed-up world, aint it?.

I've been reading off and on Steven Pinker's book, "The Language Instinct" and it's interesting. He puts forth a case about how language is built into our brains. While I don't doubt that language is indeed an innate ability for our species, I'm not entirely sure his points are always convincing. I look forward to reading more of it. I need to get into reading more...and less television.

Summer is upon us. The solstice has come and gone and now the sunlight get less and less everyday until the "dead" of winter. Goals. I'm not sure what I want to do this summer, frankly. I want to be more outdoors...spending less time watching television. I want to go hiking, biking and running. It's fun. Also I want to spend more time reading God's word (the Bible). It's inspiring to see God work in other people's lives (namely one that just got a job). I hope to see God blessing me this summer as well.

To Run

Some people run for public office. Some people run late. Some people run into debt. Some people run stories in newspapers. Some people get to run the big show. And some people even get the runs. But for me, I just like to run. surprise, surprise. back in the day, i actually ran in cross country and enjoyed it. i have since stopped running regularly. and all prior attempts to start running again have failed. but luckily, i have once again gained a new fondness for running. i run after work twice a week around the slough. it's scenic, flat, and fun. the fresh air is nice and the birdies like to hang around there too. i sit with anticipation during work, waiting for the minutes to tick by so that i can go for a run! on monday i ran for around 30 mins and i was totally pooped out afterwards. but on wednesday, i ran for the same distance in about the same time but wasn't tired at the end. yay! i hope to increase the distance i run. slowly my body may be going back into the cross country mode. it was commonplace to run at least 3 miles a day without really getting tired. i hope to build on my endurance. when i run i can really feel my heart and lungs working. they get tired...not necessarily my legs. i want a healthy heart. both physically and spiritually. if you want to run with me, then let me know!